


The Path of the Gods

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, The Sentinel Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blair Sandburg breaks down on an old country road, Sheriff Jim Ellison comes to the rescue. Blair soon realizes that there is something very special about the sheriff, and he can help the sheriff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Path of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kernel1](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kernel1).



> This was done for The Sentinel Secret Santa 2015 as a gift for Kernel1.
> 
> I would like to thank Ainm for running TSS and I would like to thank my beta Merlin113 for her time and patience.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount and Pet Fly Productions who own the rights to (fandom and said characters), I do not. No money has exchanged. No harm, slander, defamation of character or company intended.

Blair heard the loud bang just before his Volvo wobbled and he groaned, pulling over to the side of the small dirt road. For one moment he let his head rest on the steering wheel, already sure he knew what was wrong, before taking several calming breaths and getting out of the car. 

Shivering in the cold, he glanced up and down the road. The old country road was lined on either side by dense trees and, aside from the soft sounds of water trickling down through the leaves, the area was silent, and as night descended, very dark. Blair glanced around telling himself not to be nervous and then walked over to the passenger’s side of the car. He looked at a rear tire that was no longer big and round, but rather flat, and shook his head. “Damn,” he muttered, “What else can go wrong today? I have no home, I have no clue where I am, and now I have a flat tire.”

As if in answer, as he contemplated the flat, snowflakes started to drift gently down. Blair looked up, wondering what Deity he had angered and mentally apologized to any and all he could think of. Then he turned to the trunk. He had a bunch of boxes piled there and added them to some others in the backseat before uncovering and pulling out his spare tire. It was late, it was dark, and somewhere or other he had made at least one wrong turn as he traveled. So, instead of being on highway 5 South to Cascade, he was on some tiny back road with no name, in the cold.

Pulling out his jack, he got to work lifting the car, but every once in a while he would look up and about, some inner sense telling him something important was going to happen and that it had been important he be here. 

He was still struggling with the last of the lug nuts when a car came down the road and pulled up behind him. He looked back into the headlights of the vehicle, wondering who else was on this Godforsaken road, when the occupant hit his emergency red and blue lights and Blair gave a sigh of relief, realizing this was a cop. 

“Hello,” he called, standing, a hand shading his eyes to block out the glare of the cop’s headlights.

“Not the best place to get a flat” the cop said, getting out of his car and cautiously walking over. The cop glanced down at the tire, up at the sky, and then at the spare tire near the trunk. “Not many come down this road at night; it’s a bit out of the way.”

Blair nodded. “I noticed it’s kind of dark and isolated.” He glanced back down at the tire. “I’m trying to get the last of the lug nuts off so I can change it. You wouldn’t happen to have any oil in your car?” 

“Yeah, I do. But from the look of it, I think your spare has a flat as well.” 

“What?” Blair walked over and looked down. He couldn’t really tell how the tire looked in the dark, but it did feel a little soft. “I can’t believe this.” He glanced back at the cop’s car seeing the word Sheriff on the door.

“Sheriff, you wouldn’t have a spare I could borrow till I get to a mechanic?”

“Sure, but you’re not going to find anywhere to get your tire fixed at this hour. Jerry’s Auto is closest and he closed at five and everyone else is buckling down. There’s a storm coming in tonight. I’d say the temperature is going to drop at least twenty degrees in the next hour or two.”

“Maybe I could drive to the nearest town and check into a motel for the night and get it fixed in the morning and then return your tire.”

“The nearest motel is thirty five miles south and the roads are already starting to ice up.” 

“Thirty five miles! Where am I?”

The cop chuckled. “Let me guess. You were heading down from Canada or somewhere near the Canadian border, and instead of continuing south you got on Highway 542.” Blair nodded. “You’ve gone 50 miles east on 542. You’re just outside of Deming, Washington. Not really a good sense of direction there, Chief.”

“I must have missed the signs,” Blair said softly, unwilling to tell the sheriff that something had drawn him to this road. Years before, he had read Mary Stewart’s Arthurian legend, The Crystal Caves. He remembered in the book a young Merlin had said he had put himself in the path of the Gods. Whenever Blair felt an urge to take a different road, he invariably told himself, “I’m putting myself in the paths of the Gods.”

“You sure did. You’re in Whatcom County, south of Mt Shuksan. You’re near the edge of the Northern Cascades National Forest near Baker’s Lake.” The sheriff looked up at the sky and then back at the car. “Okay, let’s start by getting this tire changed. The snow is going to get heavy, soon.” The cop turned and walked to the back of his vehicle and opened the trunk, pulling out several items, including a rifle which he placed on the backseat of his car before bouncing a tire over to Blair and then bringing a can of WD40.

Blair sprayed the lug nut and with a good hard twist it turned. In minutes the tire was off and the cop’s spare was on. “Thanks, Sheriff…” he paused, not knowing the officer’s name and unable to read the badge in the dark.

“Ellison.”

Blair smiled. “Blair Sandburg,” he introduced himself.

“Where were you heading with all these boxes, Mr. Sandburg?”

“South, to a warmer climate. I went to spend Christmas with my…my friend. I figured I could find work up there and maybe get a place near him…ur…her, but we broke up yesterday and I got kicked out.”

“You can say boyfriend; it won’t stop me from helping you.”

Blair smiled, sheepishly. “Some people get put off by the admission.” 

“I hope he wasn’t too good a friend, kicking you out three days before Christmas.”

“No, we hadn’t been going out very long,” Blair said. “I’m more upset over the tire than the break up,” he admitted, glancing up. The snowflakes were getting heavier and the road was already coated with more than a dusting. “Thirty five miles to a motel?” he stated, mentally adding, “in the snow and the dark.”

The sheriff must have been thinking the same thing because he indicated his car and said, “Follow me back to the office and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thanks,” Blair turned to his own car, praying it would start. Getting in, he spoke to the car. “Please be good and start; I don’t want to be stuck on the road if the sheriff pulls out,” as he turned the ignition. It took a minute but, after a slight sputter, it started, and Blair cranked up the heat.

Sheriff Jim Ellison waited and when the engine turned over, he pulled in front, and started down the road, going at a slow pace. The roads were becoming icy and slick and he didn’t want the kid sliding into a ditch, so he kept below the speed limit, signaling each turn well in advance. As he went, he picked up his mike. “Hey, Charlie,” he called.

“Yeah, Jim,” a voice crackled over the police radio. 

“Do me a favor and run a plate,” he rattled off Blair’s license number.

“Sure thing, is there a problem?”

“No, the kid was stuck on the road, and his spare was flat, so he’s using my spare and his other tires look bald. So, I’d like to know who I’m dealing with before I find him a place to ride out the storm.”

“Will do, Sheriff,” Charlie signed off. 

Blair wasn’t sure where they were going but after about ten minutes of steady driving through dark, snowy roads the sheriff turned onto a slightly better road that had houses and white picket fences. A few minutes later, he pulled onto what he guessed was the main street of a very small town. They passed through a couple of blocks of quaint closed shops on either side of the road and, at the end of the road, turned into a large barn that doubled as a garage. Beside the garage was a building with the sign Sheriff’s Office. Blair followed the sheriff into the garage and parked beside him. Getting out of his car, he looked around, noticing a Ford truck parked in a corner, a large police cruiser, and another police car.

The sheriff waved him over and he followed the sheriff into the building next door. There were four desks in the room, one occupied by a man sitting at a computer, a phone on his shoulder. Sheriff Ellison waved to the man and then pointed to a room to the right of the front desk. “That’s our breakroom. There’s a coffee pot in there. Help yourself to some coffee. I’ll be with you after I check in.”

“Thanks,” Blair went into the small room and seeing some hot paper cups, poured himself a cup of coffee, hoping the hot brew would warm him.

Jim watched him go and then turned back to his desk, looking for any messages. Finding none, he turned to Charlie. “Any info,” he asked quietly and Charlie nodded.

“Dr. Blair Sandburg, he’s got no criminal record,” Charlie answered.

“He’s a doctor?”

“Not medical,” Charlie continued. “He’s got a PhD in anthropology and according to the Cascade Police Department he worked with them while studying the PD for his doctorate. Captain Simon Banks of Major Crimes vouched for him. He said ‘Tell Jim Blair’s a good guy and can be trusted.’ He also said it would be a personal favor if you’d help him out. He told me to tell you hi and you are missed and should give him a call.”

“Simon vouched for him,” Jim said, a smile lighting his face. “Thanks Charlie.” Jim looked around. “Brian’s gone?”

“Yeah and you should be off duty too.” Charlie held up a hand as Jim started to protest. “Mike’s out in his car, so I’m not alone. Take care of Dr. Sandburg and then go home. I’ll see you in two days.”

Jim waved a hand and walked into the breakroom where Dr. Blair Sandburg was sipping the coffee. 

“Finished checking me out?” Blair asked, with a smile.

“Yeah,” Jim answered, getting a mug off a shelf that said “DON’T RUN, YOU’LL ONLY GET TO JAIL FASTER.”

“I figured you would, SOP.”

“So, Dr. Blair Sandburg,” Jim poured coffee and then turned to look at the young man. “What did you study that required you to travel with the Cascade PD?”

“Police as modern day sentinels and protectors of their tribe.”

“I would think Cascade would be too big to be considered a tribe,” Jim answered.

“You think because there’s no intimate knowledge of all the members,” Blair answered and then stopped. “It’s funny you hit on that point. It was the one spot where I speculated that tribal sentinels would react differently from police.” Blair paused watching Jim. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Jim shrugged, and Blair could almost feel Jim pull back. “Tribes are small, Cascade is big.”

“Right,” Blair nodded, not for a moment accepting the explanation and deciding to do a little research on Ellison. “Anyway, is there somewhere nearby that I could maybe get a room for the night?”

“A motel or hotel, no,” Jim answered. “As you must have noticed, the storm has moved in and it would be dangerous to head down south. You’ve got two choices, you can bunk out here in one of the cells, or I have a spare room you can use.”

“You often take in strays, Sheriff?”

“Only ones vouched for by Simon Banks.”

“You know Captain Banks?” Blair asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I worked in Major Crimes before coming up here.”

“Wait a minute, you’re the detective that had to leave because of severe allergies,” Blair said, really looking at Jim Ellison for the first time. Jim was still wearing a heavy bomber jacket, so Blair couldn’t see much of him, but Blair noticed Jim’s eyes were an incredibly clear blue. “The detectives at Major Crimes told me about you.”

“Hopefully, they had good things to say.”

“Yeah, they did,” Blair admitted, “especially, Simon. He said you were a great detective and a good friend.” 

Jim smiled, thinking of his former captain. “So, are you staying here or coming home with me?” Jim asked.

“You sure you wouldn’t mind a house guest?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

“Well, in that case, I’d like your spare room.”

Jim nodded. “You can leave your car here; it will be safe and out of the storm. I live just down the road so, we can walk over. Give me ten minutes and then we can go.”

Blair nodded, watching Jim Ellison leave the room. He had wondered about Jim Ellison’s allergies when he heard the top detective in Cascade had left. He had wondered why an allergist hadn’t been able to help the detective, and what kind of allergies were so dramatic that the man had to leave. Now it seemed he might have a chance to solve the mystery. Finishing his coffee and tossing the cup, Blair walked into the main office. The man sitting at the desk looked up. “Hi, I need a couple of things out of my car.”

“I’ll let Jim know,” the man waved, and Blair made his way out to his car where he grabbed his backpack, and, after rummaging around a bit, an overnight bag. Balancing them on his shoulders, he went and stood at the garage door looking out at the snow. Across the way, through a haze of white, he could see some houses with twinkling Christmas lights and, for a moment, he thought back to his one Christmas wish. Granted, he was Jewish, but he been making the same Hanukkah/Christmas wish every year since he had first read Richard Burton’s book The Sentinels of Paraguay. He wanted to find a sentinel, a tribal protector with five heightened senses. 

“It looks beautiful, doesn’t it,” Jim said, interrupting his thoughts, and Blair nodded as Jim indicated the road. “I live about a quarter of mile up this street. I’m not taking my truck,” he pointed to the blue and white Ford F150 in the corner. “It’ll be better off covered in the storm, so we can walk over.”

“Sure,” Blair answered and followed Sheriff Ellison out into the storm.

As predicted, the temperature had dropped and the snow was heavy but the walk was mercifully short and Blair was relieved when Jim stopped at an old wood and stone one-story house with a wraparound porch, peaked roof and large stone chimney. Unlocking and opening the door, Jim ushered Blair inside and turned on some lights. “The guest room is there, if you want to put your stuff down,” Jim pointed to the left. “There are clean sheets and blankets in the closet. The bathroom is there,” Jim pointed further down the hall. “I’m going to change and heat some stew for dinner, you want some?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Blair turned to the room. “Let me drop my stuff off and I’ll help you.”

Jim nodded and turned to a door on the right. 

Blair entered the room and looked around. There wasn’t much there. There was a queen-size brass bed on the main wall and a large walnut dresser with mirror on another. There were two night tables: one beside the bed with a small lamp, the other under a window that looked out on the porch and front yard. No knickknacks adorned the room and when Blair opened the closet he found empty hangers and some shelves. Folded neatly on the shelves were some towels, sheets and blankets. 

Taking some sheets and blankets and quickly making the bed, Blair turned and walked down the hall, passing a large living room on the left with a stone hearth along the main wall and a dining room on the right. The kitchen was also sizable, with a small butcher’s block wooden table in a nook. Jim was standing by the stove, stirring a pot. He had changed from his uniform into a gray sweater and a pair of old faded jeans and it was the first real look Blair got of his host. Blair had barely seen him on the dark road and Jim had been wearing a heavy jacket when he got a look at the man in the sheriff’s office. He had noted Jim was tall and had blue eyes but little else. And, he hadn’t paid too much attention to his surroundings in the sheriff’s office; he had been too busy trying to figure out what he would do for the night. Looking over Jim Ellison, Blair decided he had classic good looks. And the tight jeans the man was wearing were definitely doing something for his libido. “There’s beer in the fridge,” Jim said, glancing over. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” Blair grabbed two bottles handing one to Jim. “Can I help with something?”

“There are bowls in the cupboard behind you. You could set the table.”

“Sure,” Blair nodded and pulled out two bowls. “You live alone?” Blair asked.

“Yeah, I bought it when I got up here. It was a fixer upper and I worked on it in my spare time.”

“When did you move up here?” Blair asked, thinking the move must have been recent, the house needed some decorating.

“Right after I left Major Crimes two years ago. I came up here and was offered the sheriff’s job. Usually, it’s pretty quiet this time of year, the odd drunk or two causing a fuss, some stranded cars on one of the side roads,” he glanced at Blair with a knowing look. “A few kids getting a bit rowdy. It gets busy in the late spring through the early fall when the hikers come through. Then the job becomes more of a search-and-rescue thing and sometimes break-ins and bar brawls.”

“It must be quite a change from Cascade,” Blair noted, cautiously. “I mean, Joel told me you were Cop of the Year in Cascade and had the highest solve rate in the state.” He paused wondering how he could delicately ask if Jim was wasting his talents here. 

“I got sick and came up here,” Jim answered the unasked question as he served large helpings of stew.

“You’re better here?” Blair asked and Jim nodded taking a seat. “Joel had said something about allergies,” Blair continued. “But you’re not having problems with all the greenery up here, not that there’s much this time of year?”

“No.”

Blair waited for Jim to elaborate but he didn’t. “So…I guess you don’t miss Cascade, then?”

For a moment Jim looked down at his food and then he shrugged. “I liked working in Major Crimes but I needed to move out of Cascade,” he answered in a flat tone, but Blair could hear a hint of bitterness.

“There was nothing a doctor could do? Maybe a specialist?” Jim shook his head and Blair sighed, deciding getting information out of Jim was a full-time job. Summoning a forced smiled, Blair asked, “What do you do up here on a night you are off?”

“Sometimes I head over to the town’s watering hole. The locals are friendly and the brew is pretty good. Other nights, I have a satellite dish--most of the full -time people up here do--so I get the games in Cascade,” Jim turned and looked out the window where the snow was falling fast. “There’s a game on tonight. There might be problems with the reception because of the storm, but usually it works.”

“Are you a Jags fan?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim agreed. 

“I love the Jags,” Blair dug into his food with more gusto and Jim, watching him, smiled before turning to his own food.

A little while later, the pair cleaned up the kitchen, Jim started a fire in the fireplace, and they sat down on the sofa to watch the Jags. It was very cold outside and the wind was howling so the logs added a little extra warmth to the room. Lifting his beer, Jim glanced around the room. “I’ve added insulation to the house, but sometimes, even with the heat blasting and the extra insulation, the cold seeps in.”

Blair nodded. He was comfortable wearing several layers of clothing but could still feel a bit of a draft seeping in. “You wouldn’t happen to have internet up here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do. It’s connected through the satellite. But it’s slow,” Jim admitted.

“Hey, man, slow is better than none. Can I use it after the game and leave a few messages for friends?” he asked, not adding he would do some research on James Ellison.

“Sure,” Jim answered and the two men settled in.

The Jags won the game, something that made both Jim and Blair happy. They had hooted, hollered and mock argued about plays throughout the game, and Blair discovered that Jim had a dry sense of humor and a quick wit. The more interaction he had with the man, the more he liked him and wanted to know about him, and so, when Jim said good night, Blair pulled out his laptop and hastily sent messages off to a few friends telling them where he was, and then turned to the net to do some research on Jim.

The next morning, Jim got up at his usual time--oh dark thirty--and after shaving and showering, made a pot of coffee. Following his usual morning routine, Jim scanned his house, noting the slow, soft breathing of his guest in the bedroom down the hall. On the few occasions when he had a visitor sleeping in his guest room, he had found the sounds distracting. But Sandburg’s breathing was actually relaxing and Jim found himself tuning into the guest’s heartbeat.

It was when Jim had company that he was most often reminded that his senses were not normal. He knew he shouldn’t be able to hear Sandburg’s heartbeat or breathing, but Jim had long since acknowledged that he wasn’t normal. All of his senses were heightened. It was a bitter admission and the reason why he had left Cascade; his senses couldn’t handle the noises, smells and other inputs. He had told friends and colleagues it was severe allergies, knowing he couldn’t tell them the truth. His senses were too powerful and, as a result, too painful. At least here he could function. Hell, he even found them useful when he was searching for lost hikers if he didn’t have one of those weird fits that sometimes plagued him.

As he poured his first cup of coffee, he went to the door and looked out. The small town was covered in snow and the flakes, while falling slower, were being pushed around by a heavy wind. With Sandburg’s bald tires, he wouldn’t be going anywhere today. He’d have to get to Jerry’s Auto and get four new tires before he took that car out on these roads. Jim was surprised that the idea of having a guest for another day didn’t bother him. 

Holding his cup of coffee, Jim grabbed his cordless phone and called the station. “Whatcom County Sheriff’s Office, Deputy Murray speaking.”

“Hey Brian,” Jim took a seat, putting the cup on the table, “Any problems?”

“Jim, you’re off today,” Brian chuckled. “And truthfully, the town is buckled down because of the storm. I hear you have a houseguest.”

“Yeah, some doctor of something or other. He had a flat, his spare had a flat, and if you look at his car, the other tires are all bald.”

“I’m surprised you took him in. Getting soft there, Ellison.”

“My former Captain in Major Crimes knows him. Consider it professional courtesy.”

“When I came on this morning, Charlie told me he’s kind of cute,” Brian teased. 

When Jim had first come up to Whatcom County he debated whether he should hide his sexual preferences. In Cascade, a lot of the old-time cops weren’t as tolerant as they should be and he had kept his “leanings” secret. But after meeting his three assistants: Charlie, Mike and Brian, Jim decided his three deputies wouldn’t care if he had a relationship with a probe wielding alien, as long as it was consensual and between two adults. So, he had made no secret of the fact that he was bi but leaned more towards guys and the officers and most of townsfolk didn’t blink an eye, except for a few ladies sighing sorrowfully. Every so often Frank Wheeler would say something when he was drunk, but Jim found most of the town easy-going when it came to alternate lifestyles.

Jim smiled, looking up, as Blair, hair wild about his head, walked in the room. “You could say that,” Jim agreed looking over the long curls and sapphire blue eyes. He pointed to the coffee pot, watching as Blair made a beeline for the caffeine.

“Listen Brian, you know the town’s Christmas Pageant is tonight up at the high school. I know the plows up at the county seat will come down the main arteries but we need to make sure the road to the school is cleared. Ask Mike to attach the plow to the truck before he heads home and I’ll do a run later today.”

“Do I have to remind you, it is your day off,” Brian answered. “One of two you get every week. I’ll take the plow out later today. Stay home and have fun with your company.”

Jim chuckled. “Okay, but call me if you need me.” Jim hung up the phone and turned to Blair. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Blair greeted, giving Jim a quick glance before turning and looking out the window. “I see it’s still snowing.”

“Your powers of observation astound me,” Jim answered in a dry voice, but Blair could hear the smile. “It’s supposed to stop sometime early this afternoon.”

“Can I make breakfast?” Blair offered. “Then I guess I should see about that tire.”

“You need to see about five tires,” Jim answered.

“Five tires?” Blair practically squeaked. “Did something happen to the others?”

“Unlike you,” Jim eyed the riotous curls, “they are bald. They’re not safe on these roads. You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself coming down from Canada.”

“Oh man,” Blair pushed his hair back, and Jim realized it was a nervous gesture. “This really blows my budget.”

“I guess doctors of archaeology-”

“Anthropology,” Blair cut in.

“Anthropology,” Jim corrected, “don’t make much money.”

“I only just got my doctorate from Rainier when I was invited up to Vancouver by Matt. I thought I’d start my career up there. I haven’t even found full-time work yet. I was going to apply to Columbia College in Vancouver but then I broke up with Matt and-“

“Slow down, Sandburg,” Jim cut in. “Take a breath.”

Blair did just that and turned looking over Jim with a sheepish smile. For some reason, Jim felt as if Blair was looking for something.

“How do you know they are all bald?” he asked, suspiciously.

“I could see them last night.”

“In the dark,” Blair challenged, his smile growing.

Jim shrugged. “Maybe, I noticed in the police garage.”

“Which wasn’t all that well lit,” Blair leaned back against the counter and looked over Jim. “Or maybe you have heightened senses,” he challenged. 

If Blair expected some kind of reaction, he was disappointed. Jim stared at him saying nothing, his face politely blank, and in the back of his mind Blair decided Jim must be a great poker player. “I looked you up last night, man. I know about your time in Peru. The Chopec don’t just take strangers into their tribe or let an outsider lead their warriors into battle.” Jim still said nothing but Blair could see a muscle in his jaw jump with tension. “Of course, they might if the person were a sentinel with heightened senses.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jim growled, rising, letting his size speak for him.

“I know you had to leave Cascade. A modern day sentinel would have a hard time in any urban city without help. Sentinels had guides in the jungle. They’d need one even more in the city.”

“Listen, Sandburg-“

“No, you listen,” Blair cut Jim off. “I’ve been studying sentinels all my life. I’ve tested a lot of people with one or two hyperactive senses, wine and coffee tasters, people who work in the perfume industry, but I’ve never found anyone with all five senses heightened. I wanted to do my thesis on modern day sentinels but couldn’t find any and no tribe I visited would admit to having a sentinel. I’m betting you had to come up here because your senses were causing you problems in Cascade, there were too many toxins in the environment. Just tell me, is it all five? Are you a full sentinel?” Blair asked, his voice almost sounding fanatical as he held Jim with his gaze.

“Sandburg,” Jim growled, holding up his hand, palm out. “Just stop.”

Blair took a deep breath, his eyes still pinned to Jim’s. “Please don’t tell me some bull about allergies.”

Jim didn’t answer immediately. He looked over Blair thoughtfully. “Even if I did, and I’m not saying I do, why would I tell you and why would you care?”

“Because I’ve studied sentinels most of my life. I know about sentinels and I can help you.”

“You can help me,” Jim repeated. “You can help me do what exactly?” he asked angrily.

Blair paused, realizing this would be his only shot at getting through to Jim. If he didn’t get through to Jim now, he would be out the door, bald tires and all. He took a moment to center himself and held up a hand. “Let me get something to show you.” Putting down his cup, he dashed out of the kitchen returning less than a minute later carrying his backpack. Opening it, he pulled out a large, old-looking book. “This book was written over a hundred years ago by Richard Burton, the explorer, not the actor.” He opened to a page showing a tall stern native warrior and handed the book to Jim. “He wrote about tribal sentinels. A sentinel had a genetic advantage. He or she was a tribal watchman who had five heightened senses and could hear enemies approach, track game and identify changes in weather long before anyone else could. Sometimes a tribe’s very survival depended on the sentinel.” He paused, gauging Jim’s reaction. Seeing Jim was listening, he continued. “Burton also wrote about a sentinel’s companion, the guide. The guide worked with the sentinel and helped him hone and use his senses. The guide watched the sentinel’s back and made sure he didn’t zone.”

“Zone?” Jim asked softly, holding the book and Blair had a feeling Jim knew exactly what he was talking about.

“If a sentinel focused too much on any one sense, he could get lost in that sense, kind of enter a fugue state. Part of the guide’s job was to make sure that didn’t happen, to help the sentinel focus in depth on one sense without getting lost.

“Burton suggested that not just anyone could be a guide. Just like the sentinel, the guide had special abilities.” Blair paused and gave Jim an imploring look. “I’ve wanted to work with a sentinel all my life. I’ve been told by a tribal shaman and a native American medicine man that I am a shaman and I think I’m a guide.” He paused and then thinking over the impulse that led him here added quietly, “Your guide.”

Closing the book, Jim handed it back and took a seat. He studied Blair for a moment, his mind racing. His immediate reaction was anger. He’d been a ranger and detective. How dare anyone suggest he needed help! But some other part of him, the part that had gotten him up to Whatcom County because his senses were out of control, knew he did need help. “If I were a sentinel, how would you help me?”

Taking a seat, relief flooding him at being heard, Blair asked, “Are all five senses heightened?”

“Yeah.”

“You left Cascade because your senses couldn’t take the input.” It wasn’t a question but Jim nodded anyway. 

“Were they heightened when you were in Peru?” Again a nod. “Okay,” Blair pushed back at his hair, nervously. “The first thing to do is make sure your environment is safe. I noticed all your bathroom products are scent free but I think organic ones would work even better. The same applies for any detergents you use. Cleaning products need to be natural. Also, any clothing worn next to your skin needs to be made of natural fibers, cottons, silks, things of that nature.” He glanced around. “And your food needs to be organic too.”

“I’ve already found some of this through trial and error, Sandburg.”

“I guess you would have to,” Blair agreed. “I’m going to need to run some tests,” he held up a hand at Jim’s less than enthused expression. “I need to form a baseline if I want to help you.”

“Look, I’m surviving-“

“Yes, you’re surviving,” Blair cut him off, again. “And I’ll admit that moving up here was a smart move. This environment is better for you, but wouldn’t you want to be able to go back to Cascade and visit friends and family? Learn control and you can.”

Jim considered this a moment and then, saying nothing, stood and turned to the fridge, pulling out ingredients for breakfast. After several minutes of silence, Blair said quietly, “Jim?”

“I’ll think about it, Sandburg. It’s the best answer I can give right now.” 

“Okay,” Blair gave a sigh, telling himself he had to give the man time. “Can I help with breakfast?”

After breakfast, Jim still hadn’t said anything. Afraid to push too hard and shut Jim down, Blair decided he’d try and get his tires fixed. Going into the guest room, he grabbed his coat and then found Jim in the living room watching the news. “Can you tell me how to get to Jerry’s Auto? I figure I should do something about the tires.”

Jim nodded, glancing out the window. The wind had died down, though the snow was still falling lightly. “Give me a minute and I’ll get my car and show you the way.”

“You sure you want me on the road with my bald tires?” Blair asked with a laugh.

“I’ll give you a ticket if you don’t go slow, Mario Andretti. I don’t want to have to pull you out of a snow bank,” Jim answered, grabbing his coat and ushering Blair out the door.

The cold air was biting and Blair shivered as they walked up the road to the sheriff’s office. Stopping in and waving to Brian at the front desk, Jim led Blair to his car and then climbed into a white and blue F150, pulling out and waiting until Blair pulled behind him. They drove for about two miles through quiet, sparsely-populated streets and pulled up at a small gas station and auto shop on the edge of the town. Parking in front, they both got out of their vehicles and walked up to the door, Jim pushing Blair in ahead of him.

“Hey Jim,” a man called from the back and came forward. “I hear you’ve got a guest with a tire problem.”

“Hi Andy,” Jim nodded, nudging Blair forward. “This is Blair Sandburg. He got a flat on the Old Track Road last night and ended up using my spare.”

Andy nodded and wiping his hand on a rag, indicated they should go outside. Stooping down, Andy glanced at one tire after another tire and then turned back to Blair. “I can tell which tire is Jim’s,” he commented. “These two are completely bald and this one,” he pointed to the driver’s side front tire, “has a bubble in the side wall. It’s a blowout waiting to happen.”

“Where’s the flat and the flat spare?” Blair opened the trunk wordlessly and Andy took a look. “This one is salvageable. The rest,” the mechanic shook his head. “You can’t drive around with these kinds of tires, especially in winter.”

“Do you have replacement tires?” Blair asked, cringing at the possible cost.

“Yeah, I do. Since you’re buying four, I can give you a discount. It’s gonna run you about $420.00 and,” Andy paused eyeing the car suspiciously, “I’ll check out the rest of the car.” 

Blair gave a dismal sigh and agreed. “Okay,” he answered, thinking about the state of his finances. He supposed he could live on mac and cheese and Ramen Noodles for the next month or two. Of course, he still had the problem that he was homeless.

“Just one problem,” Andy answered. “I can’t get to it before tomorrow. I’m finishing up another job and my assistant already left for Frisco to join his family for Christmas Eve.” Andy glanced at Jim. “I hear you’re putting him up. Can you keep him another night?”

Jim glanced over at Blair raising an eyebrow. “You have anywhere you need to be, Chief?”

“No,” Blair answered honestly, thinking having nowhere to be over the holidays was kind of pathetic. “My mom is somewhere on the east coast.”

“Should we leave the car or bring it back later?” Jim asked.

“Put it in the garage. If I get a chance to look it over today, I’ll call later. If not, I’ll get to it first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Blair said quietly, walking out and looking over the boxes.

Jim followed him and looked at the cardboard boxes on the backseat. He could tell the cost of tires was upsetting Blair and thought it was sad that Blair had nowhere to be for the holidays and his worldly possessions could fit in the backseat of car. Not that Jim was any better off, really. He didn’t have any family around, but at least the town had taken him in and made him part of the community. “Come on, Chief, let’s put your boxes in my truck and then leave the keys with Andy.”

Blair nodded and the two men quickly packed the boxes. Finishing, Jim drove them home and helped Blair bring his boxes into the house, stacking them in the guest room before going in the kitchen and making some sandwiches for lunch.

“Look, Sandburg,” Jim said as they sat at the table, grilled cheese sandwiches and coffee in front of them. “If you don’t have the money for the tires, I can lend you some until you get settled somewhere.”

Blair smiled and Jim decided he liked the way it lit up Blair’s face. “No, it’s okay. I can cover the tires. But thanks, and thanks for putting me up another night.”

Jim shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the show of gratitude. “I had to. If I didn’t, I’d be out in the snow pulling you out of a snow bank somewhere.”

Blair chuckled, deciding there might be some truth in the statement. “I guess you must have plans for Christmas,” he said casually. 

“Not really. My deputies all have families and I don’t, so I’m going to do an 18-hour shift on Christmas Day from six in the morning till midnight. A couple of my deputies will be on call but I’m not expecting any problems.”

“That’s really nice of you, considering you are the sheriff.”

“What about you,” Jim asked. “I heard you tell Jerry you don’t have to be anywhere, no parties, no friends expecting you?”

“There were a few parties at Rainier,” Blair answered. “Just before the break, the anthro department had one.” A smile broke out on his face. “We called it Festivus, and celebrated all the various traditions associated with the winter solstice. Afterwards, a couple of friends invited me to their houses, but I was leaving for Canada and,” he didn’t finish, but spread his hands. “So, no, nowhere I have to be.”

Jim considered this a moment. “Why don’t you spend Christmas here? I won’t be around Christmas Day but there’s a Christmas show up at the high school tonight. And, The Travelers Pub, that’s our local bar, is having a really nice Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night.”

“You don’t mind me crashing here?”

“Like I told you yesterday, I wouldn’t have asked if I minded.”

“Thanks, man, I’d like to stay,” he answered, trying to watch Jim while not looking like he was trying to watch him. He wanted to ask if Jim had any thoughts about the sentinel business but he didn’t want to push too much and have Jim shut down. Sighing, he picked up his sandwich.

“You okay, Sandburg?”

“Fine,” Blair answered, and then looked over at Jim, and unable to stop himself, he burst out, “The sentinel stuff is important, Jim. Have you given it any thought?”

Jim sat back and looked over Blair, seeing a desperate and hopeful look. “Alright, let’s talk about it.”

Surprised by the answer, it took Blair a moment to put his thoughts in order. “Are any of your senses causing you trouble or causing you pain?”

“Not right now but sometimes when sounds are too loud.”

Blair nodded. “I need to take notes,” he disappeared, food forgotten, and returned with a notepad. “You left Cascade because your senses were bothering you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So tell me what was happening.” 

Jim rubbed a hand across his face. “What wasn’t going wrong? Sounds and smells in particular were driving me crazy. I was living on rice, cheese and eggs. I even did a few of those...zones, I think you called it. No doctors could tell me what was wrong and they began to suggest I see a psychiatrist. 

“I decided to take a week off after I caught that crazed bomber, the Switchman. I went camping and found that I could function in the woods. But the minute I got back to Cascade, it all started up again. So, it was either eat my gun or move. And here I am,” he spread his hands, indicating the house, and then dropped them to the table.

Blair reached out and placed his own hand on Jim’s arm in a show of support. “I’m glad.” When Jim didn’t pull his arm away, Blair smiled, “I’m going to need to run some tests, but what you need to do is learn to control the input. Tribal sentinels could with the help of their guides.”

“How?”

“Let’s see,” he said, thoughtfully. “You need an anchor. Something you can use to normalize your senses.”

“You mean like your heartbeat?”

“You can hear my heart?” Blair asked with a smile and Jim nodded.

“Wow, that is so cool! I really need to run some tests on your range.” He paused and then nodded to himself. “Let’s start with your hearing since it and your sense of smell were most problematic. I want you to visualize a radio dial for volume. Then think about raising or lowering the volume.” As he said this, Blair stood and walked to the other side of the kitchen. “I’m going to start whispering. Imagine the dial and raise it till you understand what I am saying. Use my heartbeat to control the dial. Every time it beats, raise the dial one notch. When you can hear me clearly stop me.”

Jim nodded and watched Blair. As soon as Blair started talking, Jim imagined the dial and notched it up stopping Blair after two beats. “Great man, now lower it. I’ll give you a few seconds and then I’m going to shout. It shouldn’t be painful.” Jim followed the directions and when Blair shouted, Jim smiled.

For the rest of the afternoon, Blair and Jim worked on his senses of hearing and smell, playing with the dials until Jim could manipulate them. By evening, when they were heading over to the high school, both men were in high spirits over Jim’s success with control of his sense of hearing.

“So what’s the story with the show?” Blair asked, as he climbed into Jim’s Ford F150 and Jim pulled out of the sheriff’s office garage.

“It’s an annual local talent show. Students, teachers, parents and other town folk are all invited to participate.”

“As an anthropologist, I understand the need for cultural rituals, but I’m surprised you’re interested in attending.”

“I’m the sheriff,” Jim answered with a shrug. “People see me as the law, so I have to be there to support the people.”

“That wouldn’t be the prevailing attitude in a larger city like Cascade. The police see themselves as enforcers of the law. As a sentinel, I think you see this as your tribe and territory. A sentinel protects his tribe.”

Turning down one of the smaller streets, Jim headed up a dark hilly road and parked in the lot of the high school. The snow had stopped but the weather was cold, so people quickly made their way into the building. Jim and Blair joined the line, a few of the people looking Blair over with interest. 

Once inside, Jim and Blair moved to sit in the back row and Blair got his first look at the town residents. Most were dressed in red or green clothes, some even wearing silly Christmas hats. A lot of the people greeted Jim as they went by, one or two glancing at Blair and then giving Jim a wink or a thumbs up. “I guess everyone thinks we’re together,” Blair whispered unsure how Jim would feel about it. But he realized he didn’t need to worry when Jim chuckled.

“You’re a day late with that theory. In a small town like this, news travels fast. When I took you home last night, everyone was already speculating.”

“You’re gay?” Blair asked in surprise, barely remembering to keep his voice down and feeling like the world was suddenly opening up with possibilities.

“Technically, bi, but yeah and I made that clear when I took the job, so in this community I’m out.”

“Any jealous boyfriends I need to worry about showing up while I'm visiting?” Blair asked, crossing his fingers and hoping for a no.

“No. I haven’t met anyone since coming up here,” Jim answered, and then sat back as the lights went down and the stage lit up.

Blair was barely cognizant of the show. His eyes kept drifting back to look at Jim, his eyes moving over the long lines of Jim’s body. A sentinel and gorgeous; Blair couldn’t think of a better combination and then to learn he was gay! It was like hitting the trifecta at the racetrack in Cascade. 

He knew he shouldn’t be making plans, he might not be Jim’s type, but he couldn’t help himself. If things worked out the way he wanted, he’d need to find work up here, maybe something at Whatcom Community College.

He was still thinking about “their” future when the show ended and people began filing out. Standing by the door, Jim shared greetings with some of the people leaving, warning them to be careful on the icy roads and waiting until all the people left before signaling Blair to come on. Giving a wave to the janitor and custodian as they closed down the building, he led Blair to the almost-empty parking lot.

He had just climbed into the truck and started the engine when his police radio crackled. “Jim?”

“Yeah, Charlie,” he picked up the mic. 

“You still up at the school?”

“Yeah.”

“Mrs. Combes called. Her daughters, Margaret and Paulette, didn’t get home from the show.”

“I saw her leave with her sister and one other girl.”

“Yeah, with Janice Barker. She didn’t get home either.”

“Could they have stopped at someone’s house?”

“Doubt it. Not with Margaret’s little sister in tow. Mr. Barker and Mr. Combes are taking the road back up to the school looking to see if they broke down.”

“I’ll meet them on the road,” Jim answered. Putting his police light in the front window, Jim reached to change the gear when Blair stopped him. 

“I should drive,” Blair suggested. “That way you can use your senses to scan the road. Raise the dial on your hearing and visualize a dial for sight. Notch that up so you can see clearly on the road but don’t get caught in it. Keep one hand on my wrist, feeling my pulse so you don’t zone on sight.”

Jim considered Blair’s suggestion and then nodded his agreement, hopping out of the car and moving to the passenger side as Blair slid over to the driver’s seat and lowered the police radio’s volume. The last thing Jim would need with his hearing notched up was a spike because of the radio. Placing the truck in gear, Blair let one hand slide over to Jim and grabbing Jim’s hand placed it over his wrist. As Jim looked at him questioningly, Blair indicated his pulse. “You’re less likely to zone if you are aware of more than one sense,” he whispered as Jim’s eyes swept the road. Starting out, they drove down the road slowly, Jim’s eyes on the roadside watching for signs of a problem. As they neared the car with the two fathers driving up the road, Blair whispered, “turn down sight and hearing,” and pulled over. Jim got out of the car and walked over to Mr. Combes’ car. 

“Sheriff,” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Nothing that way,” Jim answered, indicating the road behind him. “The two of you should head back and call some of the girls’ friends in case they stopped somewhere. I’m going to finish searching this road and then I’ll head to the office and see if I can arrange for more help with a search.”

“We already came up this way,” Mr. Combes answered. “We didn’t see anything.”

Jim glanced down the road and then back at the two men. Not wanting to say anything about his heightened senses, he decided to fall back on army training. “I was trained as a tracker in the Rangers. I might notice something you didn’t.” The two men considered this and then nodded and turning their car around headed back down the road as Jim climbed back into his truck. Once Mr. Combes’ car was out of sight, he again notched up his hearing and sight, a hand on Blair’s wrist as Blair started driving back down the road. 

For most people it was a dark and icy road. To Jim, with his sight notched up, it was as bright as day, as he kept his eyes on the roadside. They were nearing the town, at a sharp bend in the road, when he told Blair to pull over. 

“You see something?”

“Yeah, skid marks going across the road.” Jim got out of the truck and hurried across the road. Looking down, he could see part of a car down a steep embankment. Blair was beside him in a second. 

“Can you see anything?”

“Their car is there. I can hear them crying about being stuck. Their car’s wedged between two trees, so they can’t open the doors.” As Jim said this, he turned back to the truck and, rummaging around in the back, pulled out a long piece of rope, a police issue flashlight, and some emergency flares. “I’m going to pull the truck close and climb down. While I do that, call Charlie and tell him to get an ambulance up on the road to the High School and let the girls’ parents know we found them. Then set the flares on the road; anyone coming around that bend too fast will smash right into me.”

Blair nodded as Jim tied the rope to the truck’s tow ring before tying the other end around his waist and, putting on gloves, climbed down the side of the slippery embankment.

Getting down near the car, Jim could see the car was stuck between the trunks of two large trees. Inside the car, the girls were moving about and crying. Turning on the flashlight so the girls would see him, Jim called out as he neared the car.

“Girls,” he called, getting close. “Are you alright?”

“Sheriff Ellison,” Janice answered, her voice shaky. “The car spun out of control and went over the side. We can’t get the doors open and the windows are electric and the car won’t start.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Jim asked.

“No, we’re okay. We had our seatbelts on.”

Jim glanced at the car. “I want all three of you to move as far to the other side as you can get. I’m going to break the window so you can climb out. Don’t come over here until I tell you.” He waited as the girls scooted over to the other side of the car, and then taking the flashlight smashed it against the passenger side back window. 

One of the girls whimpered at the sound but Jim ignored that as he swiped the flashlight around the window clearing any shards. Then, pulling off his coat and dropping it over the broken glass on the seat, he told the girl’s to come one at a time. Jim helped all three girls climb out the window, eyeing them for injuries. When all three were standing next him, he retrieved his coat, shaking it off and looking up at the road.

“Girls,” he said. “I’ll tie the rope to you and we’ll pull you up.”

“Sheriff,” Margaret answered, trying to sound steady. “Janice and I are on the cheerleading team. We can get up the rope, easily and we’re not hurt, but Paulette is going to need help.”

“You sure you can?” Jim asked, eyeing the girls. Jim had been a medic in the army and he could tell the girls were on an adrenaline high, but they looked okay. When they nodded again, he agreed.

“I’ll get Paulette up,” Jim promised and Margaret nodded taking the rope. Jim held the rope steady as the two girls clambered up with apparent ease, despite the slippery slope. Blair was at the top waiting and helped them over the side. “Sandburg,” Jim called. “I have Paulette down here. I’m going to tie the rope around her. Can you pull her up?”

“Sure,” Blair called down and Jim looked down at Paulette. 

“You ready?” he asked and the ten year old girl nodded. Creating a harness with the rope, he slipped it over the girl and Blair easily pulled her up before dropping the rope back down to Jim who used it to haul himself up the slippery slope. He wasn’t nearly as fast or as graceful as the two girls, but, hey, he had a few years on them.

Getting to the top, he took Blair’s hand and scrambled over the side just as the voluntary ambulance pulled up beside Jim’s truck. The EMTs jumped out and walked over to where the girls were standing.

“Hey, Sheriff,” the EMT addressed Jim as he came next to the girl, “anyone still down there?”

“No, and though you should take a look at the girls, I think they’re more shaken up than hurt.”

“Thank God,” the EMT answered as two cars pulled up and the Combes and Barkers came running over.

Jim stepped back as parents hugged their girls and the EMT tried to work around the adults, shining lights in the girls eyes, and asking medical question. Going to the truck, he picked up the police radio mic. “Charlie, the girls are safe. Jerry will need to bring his tow truck over and pull the car back up tomorrow.”

“I’ll have Brian tell him in the morning,” Charlie answered and then added with a chuckle, “Eagle Eyes Ellison does it again.” But his voice turned serious as he said, “Thank God you found them. The temperature is going down below zero tonight.”

“I’ll finish up here and head back,” Jim answered, putting down the mic and turning to Blair. “Thanks for the help, Chief.”

“I didn’t do anything; it was all you, man.” 

“You did more than you know. When I was holding your wrist and using my senses, they were clearer than ever before,” Jim said, awkwardly, feeling himself blush and glad Blair couldn’t see his face clearly.

“Really,” Blair answered, deciding this was proof that he was meant to be Jim’s guide. 

Jim could hear the smile in Blair’s voice. “Yeah, really.”

Jim was saved from having to continue the conversation by the arrival of Mr. Combes and Mr. Barker. “Sheriff, we want to thank you,” Mr. Combes said. 

“I’m glad we could help,” Jim indicated Blair. “And I’m glad the girls are alright. My deputy will call Jerry in the morning to get the car out.” 

“You’ve given us the best Christmas present--our children,” Mr. Barker added. “Thank you.” They shook hands with Blair and Jim and walked away. A few minutes later the ambulance pulled out, followed by the Combes and Bakers and Jim climbed into his truck, Blair beside him. 

The weather was frigid and the roads icy so Jim drove slowly until he reached the Sheriff’s Office and, parking in the garage, waved to Charlie before heading home. Getting in the door, Jim went into the living room and poured two snifters of cognac. He handed one to Blair and, taking a seat, sighed contentedly before reaching for the remote and turning on the news. Blair, taking a seat near Jim, kept his sigh silent as he wondered if Jim would consider him “his type". 

They barely knew each other, but things (forces, kismet, whatever) were definitely bringing them together. “The Path of the Gods,” Blair whispered quietly and Jim turned to him.

“What?”

“Just an old quote from a book I read years ago,” Blair replied, taking a sip of the golden liquid and reminding himself that a man who could hear another’s heartbeat would hear murmured words.

Jim nodded, turning back to the news and slowly downing his drink as he watched the evening report. When he was done, he rose and, wishing Blair goodnight, took his glass into the kitchen before heading for bed.

Blair watched him go and wondered whether or not he should or could make a move on Jim. Would it be welcome? Unsure, he finished his own drink and then headed to the guest bedroom.

The next morning Jim was cooking breakfast when Blair walked into the kitchen. “Hey Chief,” Jim indicated he should sit down. “Jerry called, your car is ready.”

“Oh great, maybe you can give me a lift to his shop and I’ll pick it up.”

“No problem but you’ll have to wait a while. Jerry’s towing the Combes’ car out of the embankment.”

“How are the girls?” Blair asked, getting coffee.

“They’re all a bit shaken but fine.”

Blair nodded taking the coffee and glancing down into the steam. “I haven’t seen much of this town,” he said casually.

“There’s not much to see,” Jim pointed out.

“But there are some little shops right here along the road. I was thinking I might take a short walk up and down and look around. As an anthropologist, I think seeing what they sell would be interesting. It will give me a sense of this area and their customs.”

“If you do walk around, dress warm,” Jim advised as he put an omelet in front of Blair. “I figure I can run you over to Jerry’s about one, he’ll be closing early since it’s Christmas Eve.” Jim paused and then added a bit uncertainly. “I made us a dinner reservation at the Travelers Pub for six.”

“It’s a date,” Blair answered.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jim smiled and Blair looked up; his face lighting up as he decided he had, indeed, hit the trifecta.

“I can’t wait,” he answered and dug into his omelet. After breakfast, Blair insisted on taking over cleaning the kitchen before bundling up and heading down the road. He had told Jim he wanted to look at the town, but the truth was he wanted to get Jim a thank you gift. And, as Christmas Eve would be their first date, he wanted something special.

As he walked up the road, looking at various shops, he nodded to the people who were still out and about. Looking at the various stores, he found one that had a few statues and jewelry in the window. Walking in, he was greeted by a woman in the back of the shop. She was older, probably somewhere in her early sixties, with graying hair and bright brown eyes. “Hi,” he called out, walking back.

“How are you Mr. Sandburg?” the woman asked.

“You know my name,” Blair asked with amusement and the woman nodded.

“It’s a very small town and, on top of that, you helped Sheriff Ellison save the Combes and Barker girls. Everyone knows who you are. So, are you the sheriff’s boyfriend?”

“Um, we only met a couple of days ago,” Blair hedged.

“But you’re staying with him. My guess,” she continued, ignoring how Blair’s cheeks were coloring, “is you want to be more than just a houseguest. Yes?”

“Um,” Blair wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Don’t worry about it, honey, most of us are happy the sheriff found someone. I’m Molly. How can I help you?” 

“I was hoping to find a small gift for him. A thank you for taking in a stranded traveler at Christmas.”

Molly considered this for a moment. “The sheriff likes fishing. He does a lot of it in the spring and summer. I have lures and gear over there,” she pointed to a wall. “And he likes R&B music. I know he sometimes looks for Santana CDs.” She gave a shy smile. “He was looking for a specific one, Lotus. It was a live recording in Osaka, Japan. I did hunt it down. I was going to have my grandson give it to him. He helped my grandson with some information about the army.” She got up and went in the back, bringing out a small wrapped gift. “My grandson can give him lures if you want to give him this,” she offered with a smile.

“Are you sure?” Blair asked, even as he pulled out his wallet.

“It’s Christmas and this will make him happy.” She didn’t add, “I think so will you,” as she rang up the transaction and Blair thanked her. After buying the gift, he wandered around the small community, looking in a few stores before heading back to Jim.

At one, Jim ran Blair over to Jerry’s to pick up the car and then, while Jim went over to the office to check on things, Blair used Jim’s internet to find what possible job opportunities an anthropologist might find in the area. At five, Jim came back in and took a shower before the pair walked down the road to the Travelers Pub.

If Blair was expecting a casual bar, he was very surprised when they walked into the Travelers Pub. Along one wall was the usual layout you would expect; a large bar with high stools and small tables, the area shiny with chrome and glass. In the large front window, a Christmas tree covered in white lights and red ornaments twinkled merrily, making the room festive. But what caught Blair’s attention was the other side of the room. Through french doors, the building opened into a restaurant with rich cherry wood paneling, wooden booths recessed into the walls and wooden round tables around the center. Candlelight twinkled on each table with soft recessed lighting overhead. Adding even more of a romantic feel to the place was a large wooden fireplace set at the back, a fire blazing within, while atop garlands with small ornaments were displayed and candles along the mantle danced with light against the ornaments.

“This is beautiful,” Blair whispered as the hostess came over, greeting them and leading them to an intimate booth near the fireplace. Leaving the menus, she disappeared, the waitress appearing minutes later carrying a bottle of champagne and tall fluted glasses. Beside her, the busboy carried over an ice bucket.

“Good evening,” she said holding the bottle for Jim to see. Jim looked at the bottle of Dom Perignon and then at her, raising an eyebrow. “Compliments of Mr. Barker and Mr. Combes,” she answered the unasked question.

“They didn’t have to do that, Diane,” Jim protested. 

The waitress simply smiled. “They wanted to. Would you like some hors d’oeuvres with your champagne? I might suggest tuna steak on toast points.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jim answered with a smile as the cork popped and she filled their glasses.

Once gone, Jim held up the long fluted glass. “To new friends,” he offered.

“To new friends,” Blair clinked the glass and they sipped the bubbly. In minutes Diane returned carrying the small plate of tuna. Reaching down, Jim took one of the toasts points and bit into the tuna, enjoying the slight hint of balsamic glaze. The flavors burst on his mouth and he closed his eyes, savoring the mix of seasoning, knowing Blair was there if he got lost in his senses. 

And Blair, watching Jim, decided it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Jim enjoying the food with his heightened senses was a big turn on. Reaching out, he quickly took another sip of the cool champagne as his body heated up in response.

With a sigh of contentment, Jim opened his eyes and smiled at Blair. “They're good,” he said and Blair grabbed one, knowing if he didn’t calm down this was going to be a rushed meal.

They had just finished the toast when Diane returned, refilling their glasses and asking about their orders. Neither man had even looked at the menu and she smiled, seeing them look down to try and refocus. Deciding they were an adorable couple, she indicated the menus. “We do have a Christmas Eve special. Mario is serving a traditional Italian seafood dinner. It’s an antipasto, linguine with clams in a cream sauce, fried baccala, chocolate mousse, and finally some cheese. Each course comes with a glass of wine that compliments the food.”

Jim looked over at Blair who nodded and Jim turned back to Diane, handing her his menu. “That sounds perfect.” Taking the menus, she disappeared. 

They had just finished the bottle of champagne, both feeling slightly mellowed, both thinking this was the most romantic setting they had ever been in when Diane returned with a plate of antipasto and two glasses of pinot grigio wine. 

Setting the food down, she quickly disappeared and Blair glanced around, noting the restaurant had filled up a bit. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t expecting something this elegant when you said the Travelers Pub,” he commented.

Jim nodded. “The first time I came in here for a dinner I was surprised too. For the most part, Mario doesn’t open this backroom except during the height of hiking season when we get the people coming up the trails and on big holidays. He does dinners on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Easter. Otherwise, this part of the pub will be closed all winter and through much of the spring.”

“So far the food is great. It’s a shame Mario doesn’t cook more often.”

Jim gave a light laugh. “Mario’s not the real chef. He does the bar food but for a meal like this, his wife Angelina supervises the cooking. She’s a graduate of the Culinary Institute.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t open a restaurant somewhere more lucrative.”

“Actually, they did. They own some famous restaurant down in San Francisco. Their kids took over running it when they retired up here.”

They were still chatting as they finished each course, really getting to know each other, telling each other about their experiences and lives as they sampled foods and wine. Finally, the dessert arrived, a decadent chocolate mousse served with a small cordial glass filled with a sweet sauterne. Blair actually groaned as he opened the top button of his pants and Jim chuckled in sympathy as he took a spoonful of the chocolate mousse. His eyes closed and he moaned in a way that made Blair’s pants even tighter as he sampled the rich chocolate that had just a hint of coffee flavoring.

Opening his eyes, he looked at Blair with a shy smile. “I’ve never really been able to enjoy my senses like this,” he said. “But because you’ve got my back, I can. Thank you.”

Blair smiled and waved away the thanks. “It’s part of the guide’s responsibilities. Your senses shouldn’t be just about pain and control and helping others. There has to be an upside.”

Reaching out he placed his hand on Jim’s. “Coming here helped you survive but I’m here to help you do more than that. I’m your guide, I belong here with you.”

“I’ll appreciate any help you can give me for as long as you can,” Jim said quietly.

Blair shook his head, his curls bouncing around. He had no intention of going anywhere - ever. “You’re forgetting, I was in the process of relocating when I met you. And I spent part of today looking for jobs. Did you know Whatcom Community College is near here, and it just so happens their anthropology professor retired this semester. They need someone to teach their anthropology courses. I sent them my resume this afternoon.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Jim asked. “A small backwater town?”

“I want to be where my sentinel is,” Blair answered, decisively. “I’ll be able to help you with search and rescue and I can teach at the local college.”

“I won’t hold you to that but I’ll be glad if you do stay,” Jim agreed as Diane returned with espresso, Sambuca and some cheeses.

“How was the meal?” she asked and Jim turned to her with a smile as the chef, Angelina, came up beside her.

“Wonderful. Angelina you outdid herself.”

“Will you both be back tomorrow night? I’m making a standing rib roast.”

“No, I’m working,” Jim paused and then, glancing at Blair, added, “but we’ll be here for the New Year’s Day Brunch.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled and nodded to Diane who handed over a small basket with bread and honey before heading back to the kitchen.

“Honey is a traditional food given to lovers,” Angelina said, glancing over the two men. “And,” she added with a wink, “there’s some mistletoe to hang in your hall, just to break the ice.” With that she wished them a happy holiday and disappeared as Diane returned with the bill.

Blair reached for his wallet, but Jim held up his hand. “I was taking you on a date,” he said and handed over his credit card.

“Does that mean I’m supposed to…um,” he wasn’t sure how to finish and Jim laughed.

“I sure hope so.”

“So do I,” Blair agreed as Diane returned with the receipt and Jim left her a big tip.

Arm in arm, they strolled back to Jim’s house, Blair humming a Christmas carol, and, as soon as they entered, Blair pulled the mistletoe from the basket and held it over his own head. “Jim, I’m under the mistletoe,” he pointed out.

Jim came over and looked at Blair, a hand coming up to caress his face, a finger brushing across his lush lips, before he leaned over and kissed Blair.

The kiss went on for what seemed like forever, and then Jim pulled back and looked at his guide. “You’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” he admitted.

“I knew when I turned on that wrong road, I was going to find something important and wonderful. I followed the Path of the Gods and they brought me to you. We’ll become one tonight, Blair and Jim, friends and lovers, sentinel and guide. I’ve been looking for you, forever.”

“And to think, I found you,” Jim replied. “Merry Christmas, my guide.”

“Merry Christmas, my sentinel,” Blair answered and Jim took his hand and led him home.


End file.
